When I think of home I think of a place where there’s love overflowing. I wish I was home, I wish I was back there with the things I’ve been knowing.
“Home” by Stephanie Mills

WTF, y’all?!?  Can y’all believe that Mama T done packed up and moved and didn’t even tell me? I thought we were supposed to be partners and what does she do? She drops my
black and white butt off at the kennel for 10 (count them T-E-N) frackin’ long days and when she picks me up, instead of taking me home, we drive a million miles to some place I’ve never seen before and she smiles at me and says, “Donna, this is our new home.” Damn, damn, damn!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Do I look like I’m smilin?

Mama T: Stop being such a drama queen. It was only 65 miles and you slept the entire drive so slow your roll.

Uh, excuse you, Mama T. Wasn’t nobody talking to you so butt out.  Now where was I? Oh . . .

I am too peeved. Didn’t she know that I had a squirrel and rabbit that I was working on in the backyard at the other house, not to mention all the bones and treats I had buried back there? So, what? It’s all gone? I’ll never see my deer leg again?! Ugh . . . sometimes . . . I swear.

I can’t believe we went from this . . .

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

To this . . .

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Y’all see the woodsy area in the back yard at the old house? And I’m supposed to be happy wid this new yard? Uh, NO. I don’t think so. It doesn’t look like no rabbits or possum will be finding their way into this yard and as much as I like chasing squirrels, they don’t taste half as good as rabbit.

And where we gonna walk? The bay is a few blocks away but it’s not like I’ll be seeing no deer or beaver or any of the creatures we see when we go walking in the woods. Fish don’t have legs and can’t run. And Mama T keeps me tethered to her so unless I drag her fat azz into the water wid me—and y’all know black women don’t like getting their hair wet so that ain’t gonna happen—I won’t be eatin no fish either. This is truly jacked up. I didn’t even get to say goodbye to Charlie or Cesar or Tasmanian Devil or any of my men.

Mama T: Boohoo! Poor Donna.

Enuf already, Mama T.

I suppose I should feel a little sorry for Mama T. Y’all should see her. She all swole and e’ry thang. Nobody will ever mistake her hands for Cee Lo Green’s but they might think that Wendy Williams’ DWTS feet are her twins. What I don’t understand is how come if she ‘spose to have lymphedema in her left leg her hands all swole too? I’ll never understand humans. I guess the move hasn’t been that easy on her but nobody told her to move in the first place and . . .

I’m still soooooo mad at her right now, I don’t even want that chicken jerky she’s wavin in my face. Hmm . . . on second thought, who says I can’t have the jerky and still be mad at her? I’mma take it and enjoy it but if she thinks I’mma be snugglin up to her and licking her leg when I’m done she’s got anutha think comin.

Mama T: You promise?

Dag on it, Mama T. This is my frackin’ blog; stop interrupting. If you got sumthin to say, write yo own blog. Y’all see what I have to put up wid? Making me lose my train of thought. Oh yeah . . .

I wish she had told me ‘bout this move before I asked her to start this blog. This place looks like a dud. I bet I won’t have nearly as many adventures here as I did back home, though I am glad that I won’t see P-Funk again. That damn dog tried to kill my azz and I still have the scar to prove it. I’ll share that story wid y’all later.

Mama T says her sister Paula has a bro-in-law in Norfolk so I guess I’ll get to see if this so-called family of hers is actually real.

Gotta go check out my new digs.

I’ll holla!
Donna